


does the sun know it's a star?

by Militaraii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, more of a character study tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9249995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Militaraii/pseuds/Militaraii
Summary: "Then there he was, a candle; fair skinned, light haired, and an even lighter personality. The sunlight enveloped him in a halo."Daichi and Suga meet as freshmen and it doesn't work out, until one day it does.





	

 

It's the breathing; the ups and downs of the way his chest rises and falls. The sunlight streams in from the windows, and Daichi lazily watches the dust travelling around his room. He blinks slowly, the ghost of sleep still threatening to take over. He inhales sharply as he turns to his side, the body next to him still asleep, their bodies cupping like hands.

Daichi had known from the start that there was something about Suga. He looked illuminating, the morning dawn caressing his skin in gold. Suga made the sheets feel as silk, the cloth smooth and slippery against their skin. Daichi pressed him closer, their hearts beating in harmony. Suga's breathing was steady, a calm. Skin on skin, an inhale from Suga, an exhale from Daichi.

 

Daichi first saw Suga in the back of the classroom. He was small, pale, and he looked at Daichi with bright eyes and long eyelashes. He remembers the contrast of that blue sky against Suga during one of their first conversations. “You're like a bird, you know,” Daichi had said once, he had meant it as a joke-- “A bird, huh?” Suga smiled, yet pursing his lips as if to say something else, but he looks at Daichi with doe eyes, and stops. “What's wrong?” Daichi almost asks-- but Suga cracks a joke being a student in Karasuno like crows, “maybe it's fate that we're both here, then.” But Daichi doesn't see him as a crow, black and small. Maybe a swan, a dove, a crane.

A small bird flies by into the sun, but Suga starts talking again, and the thought is forgotten.

 

When he was younger, Daichi had believed in sex only after marriage. He imagined it a white picket fence, a two story house on a beachside. Nothing too fancy, a domesticity. But when Suga's sixteen year old lips lean into Daichi's on their third date, Daichi wasn't so sure anymore. His body, however, processed the information before he had, and as he trailed down Suga's stomach, Suga gasped sharply, and pulled Daichi down by the neck.

“Wait—stop,” Daichi had said, pushing back Suga against the lockers. “I don't want to do this here.” Suga stared at Daichi's lips, and slowly rose to his eyes. “But you do want to fuck, right?” Daichi was mature enough not to stammer back, and instead he had kissed Suga's cheek softly, a butterfly kiss. “I don't want to fuck you,” Daichi whispered. “I want to make love to you.” He could feel Suga's pulse, the breath Suga was desperately exhaling. “Mm-- make love? All nice-- ah, and slow, on your bed, Dai? Make a mess out of your sheets?” Suga asked between moans, and Daichi had answered with his own kisses. “Not here, not yet, but soon.” Under Daichi's touch, Suga, like wax, was melting.

 

On their way home from practice, they passed by two children arguing about astronomy. “The sun is a star,” said the smaller girl, “but you can't look at it directly.” Daichi had felt Suga's grip tighten against his hold. The wind was chilly, and they shared their warmth under one scarf and two hands. It must have been the dusk that chilled the breeze. Daichi had wanted ice cream then, but they settled for pork buns instead.

 

Daichi looked at the printed photograph as if it was a knife, a sharp object, something to put away, somewhere far and out of reach, as quickly as possible. It seemed glued to Suga's wallet, as if taunting him to take it out. “What was she like?” Daichi had asked. “Who?” Suga inquired back, eyeing the soft leather on Daichi's hand cautiously. “Your ex.” He muttered, closing the wallet and tossing it back to Suga. Suga drank from his bottle right after it came out of the vending machine, his throat gulping down the water.

“She was great.” The cicadas were singing, their voices filling their ears in the afternoon blaze. “But it didn't work out. We broke up.” She still held up two peace signs with her hands, embracing a fourteen year-old Suga in her arms. They looked almost white in the photo, although Suga couldn't remember whether it was from the flash or the fade. “We broke up, Daichi. We were young.” He stole a glance at Daichi, who still burned holes onto the ground.

 

Suga looked as if he was catching the moon. His hands trembled, grasping nothing. Daichi sat up and reached, his calloused fingers prying Suga's open. “Suga,” Daichi whispered. “Babe, sweetheart, Suga.” Each nickname softer than the last. “I'm sorry.” Suga replied, his voice small and delicate. “Why are you sorry?” Daichi holds Suga's face, kissing every place except his lips. “I-” Suga backs away, but his forehead sticks to Daichi's, “This isn't what you wanted, is it?”

“Don't say that.”

“But it's the perfect oppurtunity. Your parents aren't home,”

“Suga, it's okay. We still have a lot of time.”

“-and God, if I wasn't so fucking-”

“Shh, baby.”

“I'm the one with experience, I should know this-”

“Baby.”

“God, why are you forgiving me? I should know at least how to make you feel good, I owe you that much, Dai, I lov-”

Daichi kisses him, his lips like petals, quick as a breath. “Koushi, listen to me.” He pulls away, enough to let the moonlight reflect on Suga's body. “You don't owe me anything, okay? I'm not upset. It's okay if we don't do it tonight. I love you.” Daichi moves his glance from Suga's hands to his face. “Suga? I love you.” His eyebrows knit. “I love you.” Daichi repeats, but Suga's eyes stray to the window. “I love you, Suga.”

 

 

Asahi walked with Daichi to the convenience store. “Listen,” Asahi starts, a stutter, “I'm not really good with this,” A pause, “complicated things. And, I'm not really good at telling how people feel.” Daichi raises his eyebrow. “I'm sure you'll be fine.” “No, wait,” Asahi corrects, “that isn't what I meant. I meant you should really stop pretending something isn't wrong.”

They don't speak at the cashier. Daichi's fingers linger on his pork bun before he takes a bite, walking while their shadows threaten to grow longer and taller as they leave the store. “Are those plants dry?” Daichi finally says, as he watches the grass. Asahi looks over his shoulder. “No, I don't think so. It may just be the lighting.”

 

 

“We should-” A hiccup. “We should break up.” Daichi turns. “Really?” He asks. Suga's face crumples. “It's just- It's you, Dai. It's not going to work out between us.”

“Why?”

“I told you. It won't work.”

A pause.

“Tell me what I'm doing wrong.”

“What?”

“What am I doing wrong, Suga? What about me isn't working?”

“Daichi-”

“I love you, Suga. With your permission, I want to keep loving you. So please-”

He grabs Suga's chin. “Will you at least look at me when we're breaking up?”

 

Daichi's house wasn't necessarily grand. It was a simple, with two floors and the warmth his family had provided for it. Still, nights in Miyagi winter remained cold despite any circumstance, and a ten year old Daichi had wandered in his mother's bedroom. “Can't sleep?” She asked that night, a gentle smile on her face, “do you want to read a story with me?” and Daichi would climb on the bed as she turned on the lamp. It was a routine, she would take a book out of the shelf, always with a flick of her finger at the top, sure with her pick. “This is the story of Icarus.” She put her arms around him as they laid underneath the comforter. Daichi blinks slowly as she reads.

The same mother catches him one night, a sixteen year old playing with a pack of his father's cigarettes. “What are you doing?” she asks, and Daichi had sworn she had almost swore at him. “Love, put that down.” Her tone remained tense, and Daichi was not one to rebel. He puts the box down, his mother coming up to him. She slapped him. Quick, sharp, and honest. But then he's surrounded by warmth, and Daichi realizes he's in a tight hug. “Sweetheart,” she exhales, preparing for the rest of her sentence. “You can't do that, okay? It's bad for you. Especially since you're playing volleyball! What if you become captain? Do you want to be a bad influence? You're too young for this.” “But mom,” Daichi finds himself saying. “It's just one cigarette.” He doesn't know why. Daichi tells himself he could always lie and buy from a store, but his eyes are transfixed on his mother, and his voice refuses to say anything other than his thoughts. “It may just be smoke,” his mom continues, “but you should never play with fire.”

He notes how she seems like she wants to ask him more.“Remember I love you.” She says instead.

 

The boys settle for pillows, tatami mats, and each other's flushed skin. Someone on the side mutters, “It's too early for this,” and the other side says, “This was a bad idea.” But their company refuses to leave; instead, they take the boys' shoulders and pull them apart. “Suga,” it's almost a breath that escapes Daichi's lips. “Suga, I want you. I want you right now.” He tries to cling onto Suga's porcelain thighs, as the rest of Suga's legs caress Daichi's torso in waves. They're stupid, is what Daichi thinks, but his thoughts escape him as quickly as they come in. They're stupid and absolutely carnal, but all he sees is Suga's legs, Suga's torso, Suga's body, Suga, Suga, Suga. His body surges forward to capture, bite, and take-- and he's pulled away once again. Suga was his North, Daichi was a compass, and the entire world was spinning on their axis. Oh, how he had wanted nothing more than to drown. He reaches again. “Freshmen.” a voice mutters from across the table.

 

“Greek mythology, huh?” Suga quips, taking a peek at Asahi's book. “Ah, yeah.” Asahi says as he strips off his practice clothes. “I'm on Icarus.” “Oh! I've read that.” Daichi laughs, pulling on his shirt. “Yeah, I have too.” Suga smiles. “I didn't know you guys read mythology.” Asahi mentions. “What?” Suga acts offended, but his laughter radiates in his voice. “You think just because we play sports doesn't mean we don't read? Asahi, nerd!” Suga accuses, and pinches Asahi's side. Asahi yelps and Daichi laughs at the both of them. He hears Suga exhale-- “Isn't it sad, though?” Suga says. “I mean, his moment of hubris. All he wanted was to escape.” “But the sun really killed him. To him, the sun was beautiful. It was too much for him, I guess.” Asahi continued. “That's not true,” Daichi interjects, and the two move their heads to him like meerkats. “You know how, in the end of that story, everyone says that's why you shouldn't fly to high? No one ever says something like, how you shouldn't fly too low. The sun did melt his wings, yeah, practically burned, but it was the water that ultimately killed him.”

 

It was the first week of summer. They had brought fans and walked around in slippers. When Daichi walked out of the house, the heat had greeted him almost immediately. Which was why Daichi hadn't considered the rain, the gray that slept over the sky in the afternoon. “I thought it would be hot today.” Suga had started. “So, that's why I didn't bring an umbrella.” He tapped his hand on the bench, an invitation, a beating rhythm of welcome. Daichi had wanted to blame the pitter patter of the rain, he wanted to assure Suga, no this is just the rain, there's nothing to worry about. Their words left unsaid in between hiccups and breath. Sitting underneath the shed, Daichi thought they looked pathetic.

 

 

“I want to come back to you.”

 

Their hands were magnets. Their fingers were lace. They breathed the same pattern, and Daichi had begun to think of themselves as a singular person, an entity containing their souls in one body. Suga lends Daichi his handkerchief. “I've never seen you cry before.” Suga says. “Neither have I to you.” Daichi replies, although his tone remains gentle. “Maybe you're not that strong after all.” Suga mutters, but Daichi catches the slight curl of Suga's lips. “Oh really?” Daichi grins, “I bet I could still carry you with one arm.” Suga laughs. “Like that one time in practice!”

“Yeah! But without Asahi constantly worrying about you falling.”

“What if you carried Asahi?”

“What if I could?”

“Then I guess you're pretty strong. But maybe you're not that strong.”

“Then why don't you-” Daichi swallows. “Why don't you be strong with me?” A grasp. “Why don't we be strong together?”

 

“Daichi-”

“Please, stop running away.”

 

A bird swoops down and under the shed, shaking its feathers in an attempt to dry. Its body remains energetic, it hops and moves gracelessly. “I'll call you.” Suga says. The bird spares a few looks at the boys, blinks, and pays no attention. “Will you?” Daichi asks. The rain mercilessly blocks a path, but eventually, the bird flies away.

 

Suga was the God on display, the water crashing against his feet, but never staying long to touch. The sight of him was divine, his wings were cloth and the cloth were his wings. It was landscape that Daichi was sure the Gods would have envied over. Suga seemed so far. He was pure, pale, and small, naked in his grace.

“Stupid!” Suga cried, voice broken with a smile on his face. “You're stupid. How could you? How could you look at me-” Suga shuts his eyes, “when you, yourself, are blinding? Daichi, I look at you as if-- as if you put all the stars in the sky. All their light comes from you, Dai.” Suga's heart was made of clay, and Daichi feared how it played in his hands. “And you deserve that light,” Daichi continues. “you're my stars.” Daichi knew that Suga was the birth of Venus, and Daichi was only human.

 

They eat ice cream on their first date. It wasn't antyhing too fancy, a clean tiled parlor by the size of a shoebox. It was Daichi's suggestion, but Suga knew a place. “It's hot outside, Dai!” He had laughed. “Let's eat somewhere with an air conditioned room.” However, in the shop Daichi tapped his finger on the top of the table to a beat, thinking about his untrimmed nails. “Are you nervous?” Suga asked, voice almost a whisper. “No.” Daichi jolts. “I'm not nervous. Are you nervous?” Suga smiles gently. He opens his mouth, but Daichi interrupts. “Sorry. I lied. I really am nervous.” “Oh.” Suga says. “You must really like me a lot, huh?”

 

“Will you tire of me?”

“No! Never. Dai, I love you too much. I think of you too much.”

“Then why do you think I'll tire of you?”

“Because. Because-- I don't know. You say I'm your stars but I know you'll loose that feeling. You'll say you love me, but you'll only say that now. One day, it will leave. And I know you'll always do better than me,” the rain pours, “but I can't do better than you. I don't want to feel that. I don't want you to throw me away. We're young. You'll grow, and I'll be, well, here. Daichi, you're my light.”

Daichi had wanted to do something admirable; however, his body seems to move on instinct before his mind can tell him what to do, and so he cries again. He knows he looks stupid, his tears feeling bigger than they actually are, streaming down his face.

 

Daichi remembers his nervous, excited, stance. The gym isn't small but surely their new captain's voice is bigger. “Freshmen, introduce yourselves!” He says, and it still rings loud and clear. “Someday,” a voice at the back of Daichi's head coos, “you'll have to say that too.” Daichi shakes the call off, he doesn't think that his voice would be able to fill the walls, call stronger than the shadows of previous captains, the ghost of Karasuno's legacy.

Then there he was, a candle; fair skinned, light haired, and an even lighter personality. The sunlight enveloped him in a halo.

 

“I choose to!” Daichi spits out. “I know you fear that I won't see the stars in your eyes but,” Once again, Suga melts.“I will. Because I'll look for them. I choose to look for them.” Suga's hold is warm. “You'll look for them.” Suga repeats, soft and quiet, almost a whisper.

 

Their gloves brush in the night. Their breaths cloud the air, both their cheeks flush in the cold. “You know what I think?” Daichi asks, as his fingers fall in between Suga's. “I think that snow looks like ice cream.” Suga laughs, and he holds Daichi close. “You're always very warm.” He says, “but you're always thinking of such cold things.” But Daichi must have been really cold, because when Suga played with his scarf, he immediately grabbed it back, his nose snuggling against the fabric.

 

The rustling of silk; a hum.

“What are you thinking about?” Suga stirs, his arms enveloping, welcoming. “I was thinking--” Daichi replies, and takes the time to gaze at Suga. Daichi is nineteen, Suga is eighteen, and the concept of love was much, much, older and wiser, “--about us.” He looks into Suga's eyes, and he swears there are stars.

“Stupid.” Suga whispers, a second before their lips touch once more. It's warm.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello i'm ives send me a hello or a random haikyuu!! headcanon at @DALlSAY on twitter and lets be friends mwa mwa


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